Joshua and Mary
by Suramira
Summary: I don't remember meeting her. I think she was just always there.


I don't remember meeting her. I think she was just always there.

In the springtime, we lay under a tree where the grass grew tall around us, and when the breeze blew it made our hair flutter. Sometimes it blew strong enough to make the strands cross in the air, blending our two colors together. Everything around us was quiet, save for the sounds of nature--the birds, the wind, the leaves. If I listened closely, I was sure I could hear the heavy cotton clouds sigh as they traversed the sky, carrying their heavy load of rain.

She also noticed the clouds, for she said, "Did you ever really think about clouds?"

"In a way," I said.

She kept staring at them. "They're so confusing. They don't follow any pattern, and you never know what they're going to do. They cause problems--you've seen tornadoes."

I smiled to myself. "You think too much."

"And you think too little," came her reply. But when I looked at her, she was smiling too--a special smile that only I saw.

It wasn't that one of us thought too much or too little--simply that we thought differently. With her the world existed in sets and patterns. With me it simply existed.

We sat under the tree in the summertime and ate blueberries. She liked the sour ones; I liked the sweet ones. The wind blew her hair, and she laughed. Usually she would have been annoyed, but this was a different day. She stood up and the wind played at her white dress. She was singing.

I spoke to her in the darkness, when the night fell and we were safe in shelter. "Mary, Mary...don't leave me."

I couldn't see her face in the dark, but I could feel her hand search for mine. "We're going to live forever. I never have to leave you."

We lived through the ages of humanity. We watched their triumphs and their failures, and spent happy times and sad times side by side, two beings remarkably separate from all but each other. Our existence stretched on into eternity, and our fates were bound to each other. I must not, must not ever leave her side. So little was known, but that was the eternal constant.

It snowed, and we sat together at the windows. I watched the snow fall while she worked on something small and precise, deft fingers working over it and creating something new. "It's been snowing for so long," she said. There was an edge in her voice that said, "And I wish it would stop."

She didn't like the weather because she couldn't predict it.

Again in the darkness I held her close, while the falling snow reflected the moonlight. "Mary, Mary, don't leave me."

Her voice was musical as she said, "I won't ever leave you."

And then one day she was gone.

I was lost, distraught. She who had been my antithesis and my escape was gone. There was nothing left. The eternity that was supposed to be so blissful had suddenly mutated into a hell.

I asked the only one who I thought might know. He said, "I didn't steal your Mary Magdalene." I had never accused him.

If I knew but one thing, it was this. She lived, somewhere she slept. She had not left of her own volition. And I must find her again. We were bound and though fate is mutable, love is not.

I waited thousands of years to see her again.

And thousands of years later, we met.

I saw her standing there in the shadow of her keeper, and when she turned to look at me I knew she was the same. But everything that had made her my sweet Mary was gone. Her sweet eyes were masked by something horrible and severe. And when she looked at me it was clear that she did not remember who she or I was.

It was with great pain that I approached her and spoke to her, and heard her respond in the voice that wasn't hers. She was controlled by others, she had slept for so long that she had forgot everything that had made her who she was. There was no peace in her features; never did I see the strained look of concentration that had been so common for her.

She spoke and called me a name that was not mine. She used a name that was not hers. She spoke with precision and she moved with grace, and all of the humanity that may have existed within her was masked. And yet...

Even as she spoke _(This option guarantees the highest probability of success)_ she showed me that somewhere deep inside was the being I had once known. And as I spoke _(Where does the real you exist?)_ I begged her to search for that hidden part. For the days we once shared are gone forever...

...but if you can remember, Mary, if you can remember me...then once again...

_Then I'll really never have to leave you again..._


End file.
